


Target: Oliver Hampton

by KillianJones32



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Angst, Connor is assigned to kill Oliver but things don't exactly go as planned, M/M, Unexpected Fluff, assassin/hitman connor, might be a small bit of smut as the chapters go on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:50:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7769092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillianJones32/pseuds/KillianJones32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“May I at least have the name of my target?” </p><p>“Oliver Hampton.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Target

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I got an assassin au from sanyumi and I kind of changed it a bit because I had so many ideas. Anyway I hope you like it. I didn't put in any archive warnings because there isn't going to be any graphic violence or anything.

...

Connor takes his time as he walks up the familiar steps of Ms. Rothlo’s lavish modern apartment building. His pale hand clings to the marble banister as he ascends to the twenty-third floor. 

The cool, bitter winter air seeps in through the window and contrasts to the lovely warmth coming from the radiators on each floor. 

There is a fully functioning elevator in the building but Connor prefers the walk, it gives him some extra exercise.

Plus there’s also the memory etched into those small elevator walls of the time Connor fucked one of Ms. Rothlo’s neighbours last year. Not that it was a bad memory; on the contrary the quick, rough fuck with Ms. Rothlo’s tall blonde neighbour was just what Connor had needed to forget about the hit he had made on that day. 

The only problem was that afterwards the man seemed to realise that living with his accountant boyfriend wasn’t good enough for him anymore and thus preceded to beg, actually beg, Connor for his attention and skills whenever they met in the elevator again.

On more than one occasion Connor was forced to grit his teeth and refrain from telling the pathetic wannabe Justin Bieber impersonator that if Connor were to show him his real skills, he would wind up dead in the most peculiar fashion.

Not that Connor would ever reveal his job description to anyone, certainly not Jason…or John… or Julian or whatever the hell that guy’s name was.

To the outside world Connor was just Eve Rothlo’s personal assistant; her highly paid personal assistant. Connor has heard all of the rumours about why he gets paid so much. In the beginning most people assumed he was having a twisted love affair with the older woman; until everyone seemed to catch on that while Connor had dalliances with many, many, many people; the one thing all his conquests had in common were they all identified as a male.

So that theory was thrown out the window, which was quite a shame actually. Connor liked all of Ms. Rothlo’s employees thinking that he was the only one to break down her walls.

But Connor supposed he was a bit of a narcissist like that.

Those people weren’t Ms. Rothlo’s real employees anyway. The people who worked for the famous Rothlo finance company were all just for show; even if they didn’t know it.

Some of them may do the same work for her that Connor does but it isn’t his place to know that sort of information.

There were only four other people that Connor were aware of who were also involved in Ms. Rothlo’s side business.

They were Michaela Pratt, Laurel Castillo, Wes Gibbons and Asher Millstone.

The five of them started law school together, somewhere along the way they became friends/rivals. Their lives were relatively boring for the most part, nothing out of the ordinary for five college students happened to them.

Michaela was happily engaged to a bigshot politician-to-be.

Laurel had spent most of the year trying to hide her secret relationship with Frank, one of their lecturers.

Wes tried to help his hot, emo neighbour with her drug problem.

Asher got drunk and went to parties every other night.

All the while Connor slept with any guy who crossed his path and refused to trust any of his friends, knowing all too well that they would all destroy him in a second if it meant they rose to the top.

Then the incident happened.

Wes, in all his idiocy decided to murder someone.

He killed the creepy, pervert philosophy teacher at the university.

It was an accident, the only accidental kill they ever made. But all of them were in the wrong place at the wrong time that night. The teacher had tried to assault Rebecca at the time and she was able to text Wes for help. 

The five of them were nearby studying and when they arrived, they managed to get Rebecca out of there but when he started to attack them, Wes saw the trophy on the desk and acted on instinct and adrenaline, leaving their professor lying lifeless on the floor.

Surprisingly it was Asher who got them out of the situation.

His father, who was known to be quite unprincipled and dubious, knew of someone who could help sweep away the evidence.

That person just so happened to be Eve Rothlo, whether that was her real name or not was up to speculation but Connor and his friends knew better than to ask.

The long black haired, ivory skinned woman who wore six inch heels like they were converse agreed to deferring any and all traces of their links to their professor’s murder if the five of them came and worked for her.

Looking back on it now, Connor wasn’t sure why she even wanted them. That night they were weak; himself weaker than any of them. They proved that they didn’t know the first thing about what it was like to actually murder someone so why she thought it would be a good idea to hire the five of them as her personal assassins, Connor isn’t sure.

Maybe it was their cleverness; they did manage to get into Stanford Law after all.

Knowing Ms. Rothlo, she probably enjoyed the irony of it all. Having five law students under her thumb, ready to maim, injury and kill at any given time, day or night.

It sickened him at first, it sickened all of them. But it was either save their skins and do as Ms. Rothlo orders for a few years or go to jail.

There were of course the ever so subtle hints about what could happen to Connor’s sister, her family and his mother should Connor choose to walk away.

Now four years later here he is. In his last year of law school and Ms. Rothlo has trained him, perfected his skills and hardened him even further so he feels even less feelings than before.

He wasn’t even sure that was possible.

He finally reaches her floor and slowly walks to Ms. Rothlo’s apartment door. He remembers arriving here for the first time three and a half years ago. Hands shaking, brow sweating and mouth dry because he knew why he was here.

You only come to Ms. Rothlo’s apartment when she summons you.

You only come to Ms. Rothlo’s apartment when she’s about to assign you a new kill.

He knocks sharply three times and waits.

Five minutes later he’s standing in her sitting room, pleasantries exchanged and being offered a cup of tea.

Connor frowns ever so slightly. Ms. Rothlo has never offered him anything, ever.

Whoever his latest assignment is must be a pretty big deal.

Hopefully it’s not anyone famous.

Connor inwardly flinches as he reminds himself that he’s not supposed to care about that. He’s not supposed to care about anything to do with his targets. He’s just supposed to get the job done.

“No thanks, I’m fine.” Connor responds politely

Ms. Rothlo nods and leans against the wall with her arms folded. 

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to make a little trip for your next assignment if that’s alright Mr. Walsh.”

She always says stuff like that, ‘if that’s alright’, ‘if that suits you’ and any other phrases that make it seem like he might have a choice in the matter.

Because she and Connor both know that he has no choice in this whatsoever.

Connor smirks. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get away from here for a while.

“Where to?”

“Philadelphia.”

Connor raises an eyebrow, “Philly? Why?”

Ms. Rothlo smiles but as always, it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“You’ll get more information when you get there. Your colleagues will keep you up to date and ahead in your lectures. You start on the first of December and I expect you back here by New Year’s.”

Connor analyses Ms. Rothlo’s expression yet she gives nothing away. He can’t help but feel wary about this. Not only is she sending him across the country for a kill but she’s also giving him a whole month to complete it.

The target is either very important and high profile that it will be difficult to kill them or there’s something else going on.

Connor finds himself suspecting the later.

“As you wish.” Connor replies and he looks around expectantly, “Do I get information on them or anything?”

Connor was never like the others who like to cower in fear of Eve Rothlo. Most of the time his colleagues remain silent when they’re discussing a new kill with her but Connor never saw the need. If she wanted to kill him then his ability to keep his mouth shut certainly won’t stop her.

“You’ll meet my associate Annalise Keating there. She’ll give you the file. You fly out in two days. Someone will meet you at the airport and bring you to her.”

Connor nods and he can’t help but wonder when his life turned into a real life spy movie.

“May I at least have the name of my target?”

Eve’s lips turn up into a small, practised smirk that’s less obvious but more cunning than Connor’s could ever hope to be.

“Oliver Hampton.”

...


	2. Makers Manhatton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor drowns his sorrows in Philadelphia and meets just the right person to take his mind off things.

...

Connor places his shot-glass on the counter and runs a hand through this still damp hair. 

He’s going to kill this Annalise Keating when he sees her. Well…maybe not kill, she’s most likely an expert in that herself but still he’ll have a few choice words to say. 

He landed in Philadelphia five hours ago. 

After spending an hour going through the usual routines including spending fifteen minutes arguing with this batty, vindictive, crazy middle aged woman who was convinced his suitcase was hers, he went outside to search for the driver who was supposed to be waiting for him. 

Was there a driver there? Of course there wasn’t. 

He waited and waited and when the drizzling rain suddenly turned into an intense downpour, he resigned himself to calling Eve. 

Connor would have gotten a train or taxi but he had absolutely no idea where he was going. He hadn’t been given any address for this Annalise Keating or even an address and name for the hotel he’d be staying at. So he went back into the airport and tried to contact Eve. 

Three times it went to voicemail and Connor knew better than to call again, knowing that if she hadn’t picked up by now then she wasn’t in the mood to be disturbed and he figures he really shouldn’t piss her off. 

Next he called Michaela who said she’d try and found out what went wrong and where he’s staying but that it would probably take a while. Connor could tell by the waver in her voice that she’d just completed a job so he quickly hung up and let her get back to work.

Connor figured he may as well just find a cheap hotel, check in there for the night and figure the rest out in the morning. 

However that’s easier said than done when it’s lashing rain in a city that you’ve never been in before. 

He had to walk for twenty minutes in the rain just to find a taxi and then when he finally found one and they were on their way, Connor found himself in the middle of a traffic jam which of course doubled the cost of his fee. 

After what felt like forever, he finally arrived at a three star hotel, checked himself in, dumped his bags in his room, changed his shirt and then went to the nightclub next door to drown his sorrows. 

The nightclub is pretty shitty all things considered. Connor has partied at much better ones in Silicon Valley but this will do for tonight. 

Songs, lights and drinks all blur together in a nasty haze until Connor’s pupils are dilated and his head feels lightheaded. 

He doesn’t know how many drinks he has had but all he knows is that it’s not enough. 

It’s not enough to forget the scarlet shade of blood that oozed onto the carpet from that first Professor and how the carpet was magically spotless and smelling of bleach the next morning. 

It’s not enough to forget the countless gunshots over the past few years, it’s not enough to forget Michaela’s sobbing one year into this hell of a life when she broke down and begged him to help her get out of this, to help her get them all out of this. 

It’s not enough to forget Asher’s guilty expression whenever the five of them are alone and he looks at them like he still blames himself for putting them in the clutches of Eve Rothlo in the first place. 

The alcohol isn’t nearly enough to drown out the whimpers and pleas of one of his latest victims. Connor usually likes to get things done with as quickly as possible but this particular hit had been more difficult. He took too long to pull the trigger, he hesitated; all because the stranger scrambling on the floor in front of him had a kid. 

Connor squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head.

He’s not supposed to care about stuff like that, he knows he isn’t. 

So why is it that sometimes on nights like this, the pain and the anger and the guilt just becomes too much? 

He takes a deep breath in and a deep breath out; invoking those exercises that Laurel taught all of them two years ago when they were all slowly beginning to lose their minds. 

At the time Connor had rolled his eyes and made snarky remarks at all the breathing and calming exercises that Laurel showed them but the techniques ended up helping him fight off panic attacks, which he got more often than he would like to admit. 

Because while the others might think he deals with their situation well from his cocky swagger and calm exterior, it couldn’t be further from the truth. 

But he can’t let them see that, they can’t know how weak he is. Heaven knows what would happen to him if they knew, if Eve knew. 

Connor downs another shot of tequila or vodka or something, whatever it was it tasted slimy and bitter and left his throat raw so that’s all he cares about.

Then he starts rewriting a memory in his head where instead of a stranger he’s murdering, it’s Wes. 

Wes because as cute, kind and good as that puppy pretends to be he’s still the fucking reason why they’re all in this mess. 

Asher should never be blaming himself for this, it should be Wes. He did this, he did this, it’s all his fault.

The words plays on a loop in his head and Connor is beginning to write off any blame for Wes and focus the blame on himself because he did agree to this after all. 

Sure it was either commit more murders or go to jail but still he could have chosen jail. 

And he didn’t, all because none of his friends did, because they would turn against him and blame him in a second if it meant saving their own skin. 

He’d even tried to go to the police a few times, Michaela too but the others were insistent. 

Connor snorts to himself; that situation certainly portrayed a very different side of peer pressure to what he was taught in high school. 

“Eh, sorry is this seat taken?” 

It takes him a second to realise that the question is being poised to him. 

Connor turns his head to the left and his mouth parts ever so slightly at the sight before him. 

The man who spoke is standing beside him, gesturing to the stool where Connor haphazardly threw his coat when he arrived. 

He’s a bit taller than average height, a nervous smile plays on his lips, a pink blush tainting his brown cheeks and his eyes are almost hidden by coke bottle glasses. 

He’s cute. 

He’s not drop dead gorgeous, you wouldn’t look at this guy and instantly think he’s hot and fantasise about banging him but he’s most definitely cute. 

And not bad looking at all.

Connor clears his throat, “No, no it’s not.” 

He hurriedly takes his stuff off the seat and inwardly curses himself, 

“Sorry if it’s a bit wet. I eh, well it was raining cats and dogs earlier.” 

The other man chuckles lightly, revealing soft dimples that make the corner of Connor’s lips twinge upwards and he sits down.

“It’s fine and so is the stool so your coat must have dried off.” 

Connor frowns and as he feels his jacket, he realises that this stranger is right. He wonders just how long he must have been here to have his originally wringing wet jacket dry, probably too long for the job he’s been assigned to do but he couldn’t be bothered at the moment. 

The man orders a makers manhatton with two cherries and Connor isn’t sure what brings himself to do it, maybe it’s the stranger’s soft voice or the way he’s wringing his hands together nervously, or perhaps Connor is just so desperate to feel something tonight that he decides to let this guy be his distraction. 

“I’ll pay for that.” 

The man’s deep chocolate brown eyes widen and Connor can tell that he’s about to protest so he tilts his head, smirks that traditional Connor Walsh smirk that makes men, women and everything in between weak in the knees and places his hand on the stranger’s knee. 

“One drink and if you aren’t interested after that then feel free to walk away.” 

Connor watches as the startled man’s eyes quickly rake over Connor’s body before he meets his eyes again and he gulps. 

Connor feels a jolt of triumph because he knows that look. 

He knows he has him. 

“And what if I am interested?” 

The words come out quite silky from the clearly nervous man and Connor can’t help but feel impressed. 

Not that he shows it of course. 

Leaning in, Connor lowers his voice so only the cute glasses wearing man can hear him, 

“Then the next drinks we’ll be having will be at your place.” 

The man pushes his glasses further up his nose and nods, 

“O-okay. Yeah I could live with that. 

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so Connor is kind of a mess right now in this story. Hopefully that'll change as the chapters go on.  
> Maybe the stranger with the glasses will help him or just...make things just a little more complicated.


	3. Delicious Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Con-Connor” The man below him shivers and Connor smirks against his skin “Nice, I’m Oliver.”
> 
> Connor pauses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of more M-rated, not that much though.

...

Strong hands push hard against Connor’s chest and suddenly he’s falling back onto the soft, unfamiliar bed.

Connor doesn’t know when the roles switched and the stranger from the club took control over their encounter but Connor is quickly finding that he likes it, a lot. 

He looks up at the half naked man leaning over him. Connor had thrown the man’s suit jacket and tie off the second they entered the apartment. His shirt remains on but unbuttoned, shoes and socks flung somewhere by the dresser. Connor on the other hand is wearing only his boxers thanks to the nameless man’s diligent and quick hands. 

Connor smiles, this guy is clearly just as desperate for this as he is.

His glasses have been taken off and now Connor can finally see his intoxicating, lustful dark eyes and Connor can’t get enough.

He leans up and grabs the man by the hair on the back of his neck, tugging him down and kissing him deeply.

And fuck how did the adorable nerd from the club who works in I.T. and has a weakness for video-games and crossword puzzles (they may have talked for quite a bit while Oliver was finishing that first drink) go to this confident man who kisses like sin and looks and tastes and feels so damn hot.

Then a hand is reaching into his boxers and Connor pulls away from the kiss gasping, his head falling back against the pillows as he lets himself forget everything except the man above him.

…

“Turn over”

This stranger might have been in control for the first round but Connor is determined to prove himself during round two.

The man who is below him now smiles up at him bashfully and turns onto his stomach.

Connor bites his lip and takes in the man’s smooth milky brown skinned back for a moment before kissing his way down his spine.

“Wait!”

Connor raises his head, eyebrows drawn together. He knows some men aren’t particularly fond of rimming but this guy seemed pretty adventurous in their first time.

“Everything alright?” Connor asks softly

“Y-yeah, I just…realised that I never got your name.”

Connor stifles a laugh because god this guy really is cute.

“Connor” he answers, continuing to kiss down the small of his lean back.

“Con-Connor” The man below him shivers and Connor smirks against his skin “Nice, I’m Oliver.”

Connor pauses.

The smooth voice of Eve Rothlo rings in his ear, the memory of how her lips formed around that name after she informed him of his latest assignment.

But surely this couldn’t be it.

It couldn’t be the man laid out in front of him, willing and waiting for anything Connor wanted to give him.

It’s Philadelphia, over a million people live here. Surely there are hundreds of guys with that name in this city.

Connor’s brought back to the present when Oliver squirms impatiently underneath him.

“Connor” he whines and the sound drives any thoughts of his boss out of his head.

“Sorry” Connor whispers, pressing a lingering kiss to the small of Oliver’s back as an apology before kissing lower and lower and lower.

When Oliver throws his head back and gasps in a way that should be positively illegal, all Connor can think about is him and nothing or nobody else. 

...


	4. Right here, right now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because there on the page is a smiling picture of one Oliver Hampton. The same smile on the same face that he saw last night, the same smile that he saw this morning for Christ’s sake because he had been stupid enough to stay over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, school and study and work and stuff, I'll try to post as often as I'm able to but I don't know how regularly that'll be.

...

“Mr Walsh? Mr Walsh are you paying attention?”

Connor’s head snaps up from the folder in his hands and his wide eyes meet Annalise Keating’s narrow slits.

“I-yes, yes of course I am.” Connor internally curses himself for stuttering but there’s nothing he can do, of all the things he expected to come out of this ‘trip’, he never expected this.

He had hoped for a month off, maybe get the job done in the first week and then hopefully Ms. Rothlo would let him stay the extra few weeks in Philly. He could take in the sights, relax, breathe fresher air and forget about his life in California for a while.

And one of those things happened, he was able to forget, even if it was just for a few hours in the strong arms of a stranger but that stranger was not supposed to be Oliver Hampton. He was not supposed to be Connor’s target. This was never supposed to happen.

But then again, Connor’s life so far hasn’t exactly been going to plan so why should this be any different.

He looks down at the documents again, checking to make sure that this is real. 

Maybe this is just all some horrible dream and he’s really just asleep on the plane to Philly?

But it can’t be, because there on the page is a smiling picture of one Oliver Hampton. The same smile on the same face that he saw last night, the same smile that he saw this morning for Christ’s sake because he had been stupid enough to stay over.

“Well good. Now I’d prefer you to get this done and over with as soon as possible-“

“What? Why?” Connor stupidly interrupts; his mind is still on overdrive, wondering why on earth this woman would want to kill the man who drinks fancy cocktails with extra cherries and laughed whenever Connor flirted with him and who moans hotter than any porn star in the entire world.

Annalise Keating’s eyes narrow even further, “I don’t think you’re supposed to be asking me that.”

Connor forces himself not to roll his eyes.

“Sorry” Connor lies “I just…Ms. Rothlo told me to take my time…that this would be difficult. Not that I can’t handle it.”

He can handle it, if this were someone else, some other random stranger. But Connor can’t get the image of Oliver making him breakfast this morning out of his head. Why in the world would Annalise and Eve want to murder someone who makes pancakes for their one night stand?

Annalise’s lips twinge upwards, “I’m sure you’ll do just fine Mr. Walsh. Seeing as you’re taking such a keen interest, I’ll indulge your curiosity. Mr. Hampton worked for me on and off for the past few years. Hacking into police records, client’s emails, that sort of thing.” Annalise sighs “All in all, he was a good kid but…unfortunately he decided he wanted out. He looked into something he shouldn’t have, found out information your boss and I would rather keep to ourselves and he quit.”

Annalise smirks, “And as you and I both know, you can’t just quit this sort of job.”

Four years ago Connor would have gulped and broke eye contact from such a subtle threat, now his eyes never waver from hers and he simply nods.

“Right well, all the details are in there. I expect you to know it inside out by the next time we meet. Like I said, it would be preferable if you…finished this as quickly as possible. And I wouldn’t underestimate him if I were you.”

Connor looks down, pretending to intently study the information about his one night stand but he can’t focus. How could the babbling, blushing man from last night have been enthralled with such a woman as Annalise Keating? He just can’t get his head around him.

Not that Connor knows anything about Annalise Keating, Ms. Rothlo never mentioned her before but Connor has heard rumours of Ms Rothlo having an affair with a married woman from people who actually work in her company. They insist that the events took place years ago though, long before Connor ever met her so this could be her. 

Though Connor felt that her surname was oddly familiar; he just can’t remember where he heard it before. Maybe Ms. Rothlo talked about her in passing over the past few years but he hadn’t been paying attention at the time.

“I’ll do my best” He replies shortly

“Good, you may be on your way then.”

Without giving him a second glance, Annalise Keating turns on her heels and exits the room, leaving Connor standing in an unfamiliar room, staring down at a startlingly familiar face.

He feels thick bile rising in his throat which he forces himself to swallow down. He hasn’t felt this ill since that night. Not even when he first started working for Ms. Rothlo. But somehow this was worse, because he knows Oliver.

He might not know him that well, or know that much about him, or know anything really, but this time is different from all his previous assignments.

Mostly because before, he just had the haunting lingering thought of ‘what if they weren’t a bad person?’ or ‘what if they didn’t deserve this?’ circling in his brain for days, weeks or months after a hit.

But this time, Connor knows, he just knows that Oliver Hampton doesn’t deserve to be killed.

…

It takes him four hours to decide what to do.

Well decide is possibly the wrong word seeing as he still isn’t sure whether or not he’ll be able to kill Oliver but at least he’s done something.

He drove to Oliver’s apartment.

Connor would have preferred to call ahead but he hadn’t gotten Oliver’s phone number this morning, there hadn’t been any need.

During their brief conversation last night, or maybe it was this morning, Connor had let Oliver know that he was just in town for a business trip. Both of them knew that nothing was going to come out of their night together and at the time, that suited Connor just fine.

But now…now Connor is sitting against the wall outside Oliver Hampton’s apartment, trying to remember how to breathe while simultaneously quelling the throbbing pain in his brain.

Needless to say, he’s failing miserably.

The faint sound of footsteps reach his ears and Connor looks up from where his head was comfortably resting in between his arms to the shadow appearing in the stairwell.

Which was strange because everyone else who passed by here took the elevator, including himself.

The figure comes into view and the minute the man spots Connor, he stops short and his eyes widen.

“Connor?”

It takes Connor a second but then he’s scrambling to his feet, letting out an awkward, relieved laugh.

“Eh…hey Oliver.”

Oliver frowns, he has an over the shoulder bag draped across his chest and he’s wearing a similar suit as last night except with a different tie.

Connor has to admit, the guy looks really good in suits.

He then clenches his fists and reminds himself why he’s here.

Oliver swallows hard, “Em…hi, what are…what are you doing here?”

Connor smirks, “Just thought I’d stop by, new city and all that, I don’t really know anybody.”

“Aren’t you here for work?”

“Yeah but I sorted everything out” Well he wouldn’t say that “So I’m free for the next while…I was hoping that you were too.” Suggestion is laced in Connor’s words and even the most naive people would be able to pick up on what he’s hinting at.

Oliver opens and closes his mouth twice before finding his words, “Why?”

“Why?” Connor echoes, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, why? I mean I’m not, I’m by no means an expert in one night stands but when you left this morning, I got the feeling- well I assumed that that was the end of it.”

Connor forced down the uneasiness in his stomach, desperately trying to fall into his old confident, sexy persona of a few years ago.

He strides forward until he’s standing right in front of Oliver but never touching him.

“It was the end of it but,” Connor purposefully drops his eyes down to Oliver’s lips for a fraction longer than necessary, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

If Connor wasn’t standing so close then he might not have heard the slight hitch in Oliver’s breathing at his words.

“R-really?”

Connor bites his lip and nods.

“But…but you live in California.”

Connor shrugs, “I’m not expecting us to date or anything Oliver. I just thought that…well I’ll be in the city for a while and I could go to bars every few days and find some guys to liven up my boring schedule but I’m sure they won’t be half as good in bed as you are.”

“So you just want me for sex so you won’t get bored on your business trip?”

Fuck, that indignant tone of Oliver’s clearly meant that this tactic was not going to work.

Connor rubbed the back of his neck, partly for show, partly because he was starting to actually get nervous.

“I didn’t mean that. I just thought we could have a bit of fun. Not that you can’t have fun without me-or with someone else who isn’t me but well I need someone to show me the sights and-“

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Okay…we can…have fun…or whatever.” Oliver cringes and Connor sort of wishes that the earth would swallow him whole right this second.

Damn he really wished he planned this better.

“Would you like to come in?” Oliver offers hesitantly

The knot in Connor’s stomach tightens but still he smiles, “Sure”

Oliver Hampton’s apartment is just how Connor remembered it.

It’s small enough but a perfect size for one person, decorated with homely rugs and flourished art pieces; the apartment is warm and welcoming but Connor shivers upon entering.

As he’s looking around the room, Connor’s eyes fall upon the block of knives sitting innocently on the kitchen worktop. He swallows hard, mind fighting between what he has to do and what he feels he’s capable of.

He’s killed before, yes. He’s helped cover up murders before, yes. He’s done terrible things, yes.

But Connor had eventually been able to rationalise those actions because as Laurel had drilled into his head, those people deserved it. After the following few days of worrying and feeling guilty after every kill, he’d accept it and move on because he had to do it and because they were bad people. 

And maybe Connor’s becoming weak or maybe that one night of amazing sex after so long without it is getting to his head, but for some reason Connor just doesn’t think that Oliver is a bad person.

Or well maybe he is a bad person, in this day and age who isn’t, but he certainly doesn’t deserve to die.

A taunting voice in his brain reminds him that the others didn’t deserve to die either. 

Connor is drawn from his thoughts when he catches sight of Oliver’s raised eyebrow and concerned look.

“Sorry?”

“I asked if you’d like some coffee or anything.”

Connor nods, “Oh yeah, coffee would be great…thanks.”

Oliver smiles but his shoulders seem tense; he clearly doesn’t have a lot of experience dealing with one night stands who come crawling back to him the next day.

Connor wonders if Oliver has many experiences with one night stands in general, Oliver said he wasn’t an expert but Connor can’t help but feel curious, then he realises that it’s none of his business.

Oliver moves over to the coffee pot which is situated right beside those insufferable knives. Connor makes a split second decision, his feet thinking for him as he follows Oliver until he’s standing right behind him.

Oliver releases a small, quiet gasp when he feels Connor’s body press against him. Connor bends his head down, trailing kisses along Oliver’s lean neck and out of the corner of his eye he sees Oliver’s fingers tremble around the handle of the coffee pot.

“You know....” Connor kisses up to Oliver’s ear and whispers in his ear, “I’m kind of in the mood for something other than coffee…”

The coffee pot dangles in the air, there’s another distinctive hitch in Oliver’s breathing when Connor sucks on his earlobe.

“O-oh yeah?”

Connor hums an affirmative noise and nibbles on Oliver’s ear in response.

Connor is rewarded by the sound of Oliver’s soft groan and the clang of the coffee pot being hastily dropped onto the worktop.

Oliver spins around in Connor’s arms, uses one of his one to dive into Connor’s hair before tugging him down and pressing his lips to his.

The kisses starts out gentle but then Connor backs Oliver up and blocks him into the drawers by placing his hands on the worktop on either side of him.

Connor pulls back mere inches just to press light kisses along Oliver’s jaw.

“This alright?” Connor checks

He needs this to be alright. He needs this. A distraction from why he’s really here. That’s all this is. Some good sex before he gets his thoughts together and figures out what the hell he has to do.

Right here, right now Oliver is just another guy who Connor can fuck, who can relax him and make him forget. 

Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

Oliver nods; his eyes wide with eagerness and a passion that echoes into their next kiss. And the one after…and the one after that…

Half an hour later with Connor’s head pressed back into his pillow, his mouth open and releasing a long, drawn out moan caused by Oliver and his fucking sinful mouth, he isn’t so sure that Oliver is ‘just another guy’ after all.

...


End file.
